


Flybys and Landings

by sterlinglee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlinglee/pseuds/sterlinglee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Daichi's behavior takes a turn for the strange, Suga attempts damage control because that's what Suga does.  He doesn't know the full story, but in his defense, "your captain and best friend has decided he <em>like</em>-likes you" isn't the first conclusion most people come to.  There's confusion, a little heartache, and certain things that fail to be said until it's nearly too late.  But they make it to the same destination in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flybys and Landings

“It’s fine, I thought this might happen. I came prepared.” Daichi brandished an umbrella with one hand, zipping his Karasuno club jacket with the other. Outside, rain pattered on the stone walk, steadily getting heavier. Suga glanced dubiously out the window.

“My mom should be back from work soon. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind driving you home.”

A gust of wind blew rain in staccato blasts against the side of the house. “Don’t worry about it,” Daichi said firmly. “It’s not a long walk.”

“Well, I know, but…” Suga shrugged, hunting for the right words. “Well. See you tomorrow, I guess.”

“See you tomorrow,” Daichi echoed, as he stepped out the door onto the covered walk. His gaze lingered, traveling over Suga’s face. Then he shook himself as if trying to escape some snare that connected them, and smiled. A little too widely, Suga thought. 

He should say something. Their study session today had been…weird, like they were trying to navigate around invisible barriers all of a sudden. Daichi had been tense and distant, and when Suga had tried their old joke about the custard taiyaki vendor, he had fumbled the response like an actor forgetting his line.

Daichi wasn’t struggling with class, he knew, and he liked to think his friend would just tell him if there was trouble at home. None of that translated to the way Daichi had _jumped_ when Suga sat down soundlessly beside him, the way eye contact suddenly felt like a physical blow. 

The weather was oppressive—was he being childish, thinking that? He couldn’t seem to pinpoint where his own confused feelings ended and Daichi’s strangeness began.

“Be safe,” he settled for, lamely. Daichi considered him, his gaze oddly intent. The wind picked up again, and he blinked and stared into the sky as if he had just noticed the clouds roiling overhead. Suga thought about how easy it would be to reach out and zip his jacket the rest of the way, to cover his shirt collar and the line of his throat. 

“Can we—” Daichi began, just as Suga said “I should—”

They both fell silent at the same time. “Sorry,” Suga said. “If you’re sure about walking, I guess I shouldn’t keep you.” He stepped back from the door, suddenly very conscious of where he was standing, and Daichi smiled again, looking oddly disappointed. 

“Thanks for helping me with those English verbs,” he said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done. See ya.” He shut the door before Suga could respond.

Daichi’s English was fine—better than fine. He had a solid instinct for new grammar and tough patterns, even if it took him a little longer to explain why he knew he was right. Suga curled his fingers into a fist and released them. Then he turned and strode back up to his room.

School the next day was, objectively, the same as always. Practice too, but Suga found himself vaguely haunted by Daichi’s unhappy smile—the memory of it reduced his day to an airless rush of classwork and ringing bells and the solid _thump, thump, thump_ of volleyballs making impact. He waited by his locker as the rest of the team spilled laughing and jostling into the hall. At last it was just him and his captain, who sat flipping through a training manual and bouncing his leg idly.

“Everything all right, Daichi?” Suga asked, only half-turning from his locker. “You had me kind of worried yesterday.” Years had taught him that while Daichi didn’t spook easily, he had a way of bridling and getting stubborn if you met him head-on. That could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the situation. 

Suga was disturbed by the fact that he still couldn’t figure out what the _situation_ was. 

Daichi was still staring at the manual. He licked his thumb and turned to another page with deliberate slowness. “I got home fine, if that’s what you mean,” he said. 

“Good. That’s—I’m glad. It got pretty bad after you left.” The wind had picked up, until the rain no longer fell vertically and the tree outside Suga’s bedroom window screeched as it dragged its branches along the glass. Remembering the sound, Suga frowned to himself—what was wrong with them? When he talked with Daichi, it shouldn’t be like this. It was never like this.

Daichi shifted suddenly on the bench, jerking his chin up and shutting the manual in frustration. Suga permitted himself a tiny internal leap of relief—he wasn’t the only one bothered by their new distance. But he couldn’t relax. “Come over this weekend,” he blurted. “You know, in case you still need help with those verbs.”

Immediately, he knew he’d said the wrong thing, and not for the first time. Daichi smiled again, sunnily, and Suga felt it like a punch to the gut. “I might,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll call you.”

He didn’t call. The next few practices were odd slices of time, as if Suga had stepped into a sideways universe where the years behind them meant nothing. How long was it that he and Daichi had been a unit, unique but parallel, holding Karasuno together in their own complementary ways? They used to fall into step so easily. But when Suga looked for him, Daichi always seemed to be on the other side of the court, corralling rowdy juniors or talking strategy with Coach. He smiled plenty, kept his hands steady and his feet light. He kept his distance.

On Thursday, he called out to Suga, “Nice toss!” just like he had the day before and the day before that. It was the only thing he’d said to him all afternoon. 

Asahi noticed. He’d caught the ace glancing their way with worry plainly written on his face, and the sight made him feel queasy with guilt. Asahi had enough things to set him on edge. It would only be a matter of time before those vibrations from the center reached the rest of the team, and then where would they be?

Screw that, he decided. He trusted himself enough to feel certain that this wasn’t just in his head, that somewhere beneath the surface the land was shifting. Karasuno had some big names on its roster, but he’d always been the one who found things out and set them right. 

Even if he couldn’t stand on the court, he could do that much. 

He dismissed the idea of showing up at Daichi’s unannounced; while a part of him twisted uncomfortably with the thought that this was _him and Daichi_ and he had no reason to get skittish, another part knew that this withdrawal was something new. He was making it worse somehow, by not understanding, and he didn’t think he could afford to be careless. 

He chose the locker room again, neutral territory once the underclassmen had piled out and taken their good-natured squabbling with them. Asahi lingered at the door until Suga nodded to him, broadcasting far more confidence than he felt. A smile broke tentatively over Asahi’s face. It was a look with no doubt in it, only diffident hope. 

“Daichi, we need to talk.” Suga sat down beside him on the bench this time, and felt the tension balloon around them. His captain turned reluctantly to face him. That put them eye to eye, with no chance of escape, for the first time in nearly a week.

“What’s wrong?” Daichi said, after a pause. His gaze was clear and his face calm. It was an impressive trick, Suga thought. But he had glimpsed the instant of painful reluctance there, mingled with confusion and—and shame, he realized. What did Daichi have to be ashamed of?

“Please don’t—don’t do that.” The words wouldn’t come. “Don’t act like you don’t know.” And oh, that was wrong, wrong, too much too fast. “Sorry. What I mean to say is, I know you feel it too. At first I thought it was something personal but now I think, I’m pretty sure, that you’re upset with me and I don’t know why.” 

Daichi licked his lips, looked down briefly before meeting his eyes again. He didn’t seem to want to, but then again, it didn’t seem like he could stop himself either. “I’m not mad,” he said quietly. “It’s just. Sorry.” He made one of those quick restless movements that had always startled and charmed Suga, akin to the way a magma flow reminded you of the fire under the earth. “I’m a little on edge lately.”

“I can see that,” Suga said, more gently than he expected. “You know you can tell me about it. Whatever it is.”

Daichi’s eyes flared and he leaned forward abruptly—the distress on his face floored Suga for a moment. It was wounded, aimless, and he knew the reason for it all was out there just beyond his reach.

A heartbeat passed in which he said nothing. What was there that he could say? It was something he couldn’t put into words, what Daichi needed from him, and if he couldn’t figure it out he was going to ruin everything. 

Daichi reined himself in with obvious difficulty, rubbing both hands over his face and sagging back onto the bench. He looked frustrated with himself, as if he’d betrayed some private resolution. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s fine, you don’t need to bother yourself with it. I know you mean well, you always do, but I can’t—”

“Daichi,” Suga said, certain as he spoke that he should be doing something more. “Daichi, come on. Please.”

His best friend stared into his face like he was watching a door slam shut. He got up slowly but deliberately, forcefully, and moved around Suga to grab his bag. “It’s fine,” he repeated, and it almost sounded normal. “See you tomorrow.”

Suga couldn’t move, so he sat there listening to Daichi’s retreating footsteps and the rattle of the outer gym door. Daichi was tectonic in his feelings—stupid, to have thought he understood that fully. He should have paid closer attention, should have asked questions back when they still took questions for granted. He replayed their conversation in his mind’s eye.

Daichi’s mouth forming the words, _I can’t_. The way he’d leaned forward like gravity had suddenly realigned itself toward Suga, looking at him as if somewhere a star was collapsing in on itself. There had been something bruised and worried in his gaze, but nowhere had he seen the message that Daichi didn’t want to be his friend any more.

Something more the opposite, in fact.

Suga’s quick intake of breath was the only sound in the empty locker room. Understanding pierced him and he scrambled off the bench, his heart pounding. _Tectonic_ didn’t mean _without change_ , after all. The movements of continents were slow and deep and vast, and shot through with unimaginable heat.

“Fuck,” he said quietly, and pelted out the door and into the hall. He raced through the gym and into the parking lot, skidding in the gravel. It was empty, and Daichi’s father’s car was vanishing around the bend in the road. 

He didn’t know when, but at some point in the afternoon it had begun to rain.

After going back for his things, he left school out with his chin tucked into the collar of his coat, cold rain beading on his hair and lashes. A sharp wind blew every so often, cutting through his club jacket and stinging his cheeks. “Stupid,” he muttered to himself. “I said I thought it might be personal. _Personal_.”

Daichi’s mother let him in. He set his wet shoes by the threshold with a quiet “Excuse me,” shivering as the indoor warmth met his numb bones. She watched him thoughtfully as he dried himself with the clean kitchen towel she offered. She didn’t ask why Suga had obviously walked there straight from school, when he’d ridden home with Daichi often enough. “He’s up in his room,” she said after a while. And then, “You’re a good boy, Sugawara-kun. I’m glad you’re friends with him, you know?”

“Ah—thank you. That’s…”

“Go on up,” she said, giving him a gentle smack on the shoulder. 

He paused in Daichi’s doorway and tapped his knuckles on the frame before entering. The first thing he saw was Daichi’s broad back, his dark head tipped to one side in thought. “Sorry to intrude,” Suga said, more out of habit than anything else.

Daichi had given up telling him not to be so formal about it a long time ago. He said nothing now, just took out his headphones and turned to straddle the back of his chair. He looked tired, and for a moment Suga was afraid that he was going to deny that they had anything to talk about. Even so, he went and sat on the corner of Daichi’s bed, facing him.

Their knees were only a few inches apart, and when he saw Daichi’s eyes dart down to measure the space between them, it confirmed everything he’d been wondering about on the walk over. He leaned forward just a bit and said, “I messed up.”

Daichi’s eyes flew back up to his face, guarded and curious. “You were depending on me to notice how you felt,” Suga said. “And I—I let you down. I’m sorry for that.”

Daichi lifted his head and stared at him. Mute, tentative hope was dawning on his face, but as Suga watched, he forced himself to settle back. “Say it,” he murmured. “I need you to say it.”

Suga took a deep breath and steadied himself, staring at his knees. He felt too warm, suddenly, but he was smiling in spite of the nerves leaping in his stomach. “Daichi, you’re my best friend,” he said. “We’ve been through a lot since we first met, and I’m thankful for that—I mean, I’m so, so happy that it’s you specifically, okay—that it's you I was able to come this far with.” He paused to glanced up, and for a moment his words all fled. Daichi was looking at him with infinite, baffled tenderness, like a boy who couldn’t believe his luck.

That made it easier, once he could get his thoughts in line again. “I think you like me, and I know I like you back,” he blurted. “We make a good player one and player two. So let’s—let’s stay that way, you hear?”

He could feel his face flooding with heat to match Daichi’s pink cheeks and reddened ears. He threw himself forward and covered his face in his lap, and heard Daichi make a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. Broad, callused hands brushed his cheeks and lifted his face up, and he felt Daichi’s knees bump his.

Daichi was leaning awkwardly over the back of his chair, staring at him earnestly. “Player one and player two, huh,” he echoed, brushing his thumbs over Suga’s cheekbones. “I was almost done convincing myself it was just, you know. Just a stupid thing”

“I’m sorry,” Suga said again, looking away. “I should have known.”

“My fault,” Daichi said gruffly. “Captain’s supposed to take care of communication problems, after all.” But then he smiled wryly and dropped his head in surrender. “Then again, I also thought I could get over you if I just tried hard enough.” He peeked up at Suga through his eyelashes. “…Prove me wrong?” 

Quickly, before he could change his mind, Suga leaned close and kissed him. It was awkward and a little lovely, and like tumbling off a cliff only to discover that he’d been a bird all along. They parted and Suga sat back, feeling sweetly dizzy. 

“I’m getting off this damn chair,” Daichi grunted, standing awkwardly and circling back to him, his steps suddenly uncertain. Suga smiled up at him in amusement and anticipation. Biting his lip, Daichi grumbled something and sank down next to him. The look on his face said he’d given up some battle with himself, once and for all. “I like you a _lot_ ,” he said breathlessly, sounding as though he considered it the most important thing he could possibly say right now. 

“I’m—starting to get that,” Suga said, suddenly overwhelmed. His hands went to Daichi’s of their own accord, and he laced their fingers together, taking in the new-old familiarity of it. He could have all that now, and more—the thought made him turn even redder. He scooted up until he was pressed along Daichi’s side.

He felt a deep sigh go through his best friend, and he leaned with Daichi’s movement, sighing a little himself. “You’re just going to stay like that, huh?” Daichi said, after a few moments, his voice rich with amusement and surprised pleasure.

“Unless your mom comes running upstairs to tell us the house is on fire, yeah,” Suga huffed, his hands running lightly over Daichi’s. “You got a problem with it?”

Laughter rumbled in Daichi’s chest, and he pushed into Suga the way he sometimes did when they were sitting together on the bus or walking to the corner store. “No way,” he said. And then, “…I’m not going to go running off again. So don’t worry.”

Affection buoyed Suga up until he thought he might float away. He leaned up to brush a kiss against Daichi’s jaw and said, “I'm not worried. I’ll be watching a lot more closely from now on.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...come watch me beat the "Daichi=earth" metaphor to death. The day may come when I no longer feel like daisuga is going to give me a minor aneurysm but it's not today


End file.
